


A Charitable Christmas

by Alisanne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-05 22:55:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12804165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alisanne/pseuds/Alisanne
Summary: Hermione’s plans to raise money for war orphans do not meet with Harry’s approval. Fortunately, Draco steps in to help him come up with a much more enjoyable strategy.





	A Charitable Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kitty_fic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitty_fic/gifts).



> Kitty, your fabulous request list included: romance, humor, love, flangst, porn/kink, pretend relationships, secret relationships, getting together stories, and true love forever. And your ridiculously inspiring prompts included: fake/pretend relationship (they need a date for the holidays) and one of them agrees to put himself up for a holiday charity!date/auction. So yeah, I tried to weave all that into this! I hope it suits, lovely. ♥  
> Thanks, as always, to S and E for the beta work, to S for the Britpick, and to the mods for their patience. Happy Owlfest!

“I’ve got the perfect idea!” 

“No.” 

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t even heard the idea yet.” 

“I can tell from that glint in your eyes that I am going to hate it.” Harry exhaled. “But fine, go ahead.” 

“All right.” Hermione began pacing and emphasising her words with her hands, the way she did when excited. “So, to recap, we need to raise money for the War Orphans Christmas fund.”

“Yes, I’m aware since we’ve been brainstorming about it for an hour.” 

She shot him a quelling look. 

“Right, sorry. Shutting up now,” said Harry, miming zipping his mouth shut. 

Hermione huffed, but resumed talking. “As an aside, I’m also in charge of entertainment for the upcoming Ministry Christmas Ball, along with Daphne Greengrass.”

Harry didn’t say a word, but inclined his head in acknowledgement.

“We don’t have time to get people to donate items for an auction since they need the funds by next week to do the shopping for the gifts,” Hermione continued. “If only there was a way to combine the two problems…”

Sitting back in his chair, Harry nodded. His eyes drifted to the Quidditch mag on his desk, but he knew better than to pick it up. No one could lecture better than Hermione, and if she thought he wasn’t listening to her…

“Are you listening to me?” 

Harry’s eyes shot back up to hers. “Of course. There’s no time for an auction.” 

Hermione’s smirk made Harry shiver. “There’s no time for an _item_ auction,” she corrected. She paused as if waiting for his response. 

“Okay,” Harry said slowly. “Isn’t that what I just said?” 

“No.” Planting her hands flat on his desk, she leaned over. “What if we do a bachelor auction?” 

“A what?” Harry asked flatly. 

“You know. One of those things where they line up single men on stage and people bid on them.” Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of that.” 

Folding his arms across his chest, Harry smirked up at her. “Isn’t that a bit sexist?” 

Hermione shrugged. “We can have any single women be auctioned off, too, if you insist.” She smirked back at him before glancing at the gold band on her left hand. “It wouldn’t be right to try it with married women, though.” 

“Uh huh. Or married men?” Harry snorted. “And if this is another thinly veiled attempt to set me up with someone, Hermione, so help me Godric—”

“Not everything revolves around you, Harry.” Hermione shook her head. “And do you really want to deny those orphans Christmas gifts?” 

“Of course I don’t.” Harry grinned. “If it comes down to it, I can just send them some Galleons since I’m on their board—”

“That’s not the point! You can’t single-handedly be responsible for all the charitable giving in the wizarding world! Other people need a chance to get involved.” Hermione crossed her arms across her chest. 

“Fine.” Sighing, Harry pulled a piece of parchment out of a drawer. “But it’s short notice for your auction thing, too.” 

“Not if I get the Ministry to agree to let us have it at their upcoming Christmas Ball Saturday night!” Hermione beamed proudly. “That way I capture two Snitches with one hand!” 

When had Hermione started using Quidditch analogies? Harry frowned. “Er…okay?”

Hermione huffed. “Don’t you see? We’ll have a captive audience at the Ball, an auction will provide entertainment, and those people who like to be seen as charitable will have to put up or shut up.” 

Shaking his head, Harry began jotting notes. “Right. So, anyone who attends the Ministry Ball is a victim— I mean eligible?” 

“If they’re single.” Hermione pursed her lips. “Or not engaged or in a serious relationship.” Her eyes narrowed in speculation. “Someone like you would be the perfect person to auction off, in fact.”

Harry froze, his mind racing. “Not me, I’m afraid. No can do.”

“And why not?” Hermione asked, eyes narrowed.

“I’m, um…in a relationship.” Harry bit his lip. “So yeah, not eligible.” 

“What?!” Hermione cried. “With whom?” 

“I’d rather not say.” Looking down, Harry continued jotting notes. “All right, so you’ll want to get permission to do this at the Ministry’s Christmas Ball, and since they have a list of who’s coming, you can get that and look at the list to draw up a group of candidates. You should still get each person’s permission before auctioning them off, though—” Going silent, Harry glanced up at Hermione, who was staring at him as if she’d never seen him before. “What?”

“You can’t just drop information like that into a conversation and then move on!” Hermione snapped. “I want details. Who is this person? Do I know them? How long have you been—?”

Harry held up a hand. “Hermione, we’re not kids anymore. As an adult, I’m allowed to have a private life. Just take my word for it, I’m in a relationship with…someone significant to me.” 

“No.” Hermione glared at him, shaking her head. “I’m not going to take your word for it. You’re just trying to get out of participating in the auction. So, you’re going to have to prove you’re involved with someone to get out of being on the block yourself.” 

“And how do I do that?” Harry asked, although, from the gleam in her eye he knew, Merlin help him. 

“Bring your _significant person_ to the Ministry’s Christmas Ball,” said Hermione, hands on her hips. “And if you manage to convince _me_ you’re seriously involved, not only won’t I won’t auction you off, I’ll even treat you and them to dinner wherever you like.” 

Harry raised an eyebrow. “And if I don’t?”

Hermione smirked. “Then you’d best get some exercise, because I’ll be auctioning you off wearing nothing but your underpants.”

* * *

“And you _agreed_?” Ron shook his head. “You may as well start shopping for fancy underpants now, mate. You’re going on the block.”

“Ugh! You are not helping!” Groaning, Harry rested his forehead on the table. “I didn’t mean to lie, I just—”

“Lied,” supplied Ron helpfully. 

“Can we move on to the bit where we come up with a plan, please? What am I going to do?” Harry whined. 

“No idea.” Ron cleared his throat. “Are you going to finish your chips?”

Harry waved a hand. “Go ahead. I’ve lost my appetite.” 

“Yeah, it’s probably for the best anyway since you’ll want to look fit when you’re up there in just your underpants. Take it from me, chips don’t help.” 

Raising his head, Harry glared at Ron. “Still _not helping_!” 

“Sorry,” said Ron. “Good thing you said something though. Lav and I are on an off period.” 

“Another one?” Harry rolled his eyes. 

Ron shrugged. “She gets into these fits where she wants to get married or some such rot. They usually blow over eventually.” 

Harry raised an eyebrow. “So that means you’re single?” He smirked. “Maybe _you_ should lay off the chips.” 

“You’d think so,” said Ron, holding up a chip for emphasis. “But now that I know Hermione’s evil plan, I’ll be finding a new girlfriend right quick.” 

“By Saturday night?” Harry snorted. “Even you can’t pull that off.” 

“Oh no?” Shoving one last chip in his mouth, Ron pushed away from the table. “I think I see my next girlfriend now.” He winked. “Good luck on your quest.” 

Shaking his head, Harry watched as Ron went off to chat up…Millicent Bulstrode? Harry blinked. “Bloody hell,” he whispered. 

“That’s certainly apt,” said a voice, and Harry looked to see Draco Malfoy settle in the seat across from him, a goblet in his hand. 

“Malfoy? Where did you come from, and what—?”

“I was at the next table, and I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with Weasley,” said Malfoy. “And, if you don’t mind me saying, I believe I have the solution to your dilemma.” 

Harry sat back in his chair. What the actual fuck was happening? “All right,” he finally said. “I’m listening.” 

“So,” said Malfoy, sitting forward. “You, in my opinion, have two problems, and my solution covers both. One: you told Granger you’re dating someone and you’re not. Two: this imaginary person needs to be someone surprising, someone she wouldn’t expect. Someone who will shock her.” 

Harry frowned. “Why do I need to shock her?” he asked. 

Malfoy smirked. “Why wouldn’t you have just come out and told her who it was when she asked? Unless…” he held up a finger, “…unless it was someone of whom she wouldn’t automatically approve.” 

Harry groaned. “Shit, you’re right.” 

“Yes, I often am.” Malfoy hummed. “And so, I present the solution to both dilemmas in one gorgeous - if I do say so myself - package.” 

“Okay,” Harry said slowly. “And who is this person?”

“Why it’s _me_ , of course.” Malfoy sat back in his chair with a satisfied air. “What do you think?” 

“I…” Harry shook his head. “I think you’re utterly mad.” 

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. “Homophobic, are you?” 

“What? No! I’ve nothing against gay people!” Harry hissed. “I like everyone!” 

“Do you?” Malfoy gave him a slow, thorough once-over. “Lovely, so do I. This should work out well.” 

“That wasn’t—” Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m not—”

“You’re not bisexual? Pity.” Malfoy sipped his drink. “That could have presented many enjoyable possibilities.” 

“Oh for—” Harry huffed. “I _am_ bisexual, if you must know. But I still don’t think Hermione’s going to buy that we’ve been in a secret relationship for months.” He waved his hand between them. “Look at us. We’re not…we don’t act couply! We’ll probably end up hexing each other.” 

“That’s not exactly in the spirit of Christmas, is it?” Malfoy shrugged. “As for acting like a couple, that’s nothing a bit of together time shouldn’t fix.” He raised an eyebrow. “We could even call this our first date.” 

Harry eyed him. “Be serious, Malfoy. This is _Hermione_ we’re talking about. She’ll know we’re lying. Plus, we don’t have time for more than maybe a couple of dates to get our story straight.” 

Malfoy smirked. “I feel as though the word straight is the wrong term,” he said. “And Granger will only know you’re lying if you act guilty.” He rolled his eyes. “To have this work, we’ll have to convince ourselves to some degree. Once we do that, other people will buy it as well.” 

“Okay.” Harry pursed his lips. “And what’s in it for you?” 

Malfoy waved a hand. “Just the satisfaction of knowing I helped a friend.” 

Harry eyed him flatly. 

“No?” Malfoy sighed. “Fine. Apparently Daphne is also in on this plot of Granger’s to auction people off for charity, and offered up my name. I told her I’m seeing someone, but hesitated when she asked who. Thus—”

“You’re in the same boat!” 

Malfoy inclined his head. “Exactly so. Which means I am motivated to make this plan work. There is no way I am allowing myself to be auctioned in my underwear.” He shuddered. 

Harry nodded. “Fair enough. All right, let’s do this. What’s next?”

“Next?” Malfoy’s sharp smile was concerning. “We get to know each other.”

* * *

When they landed in front of a flat in Kensington, Harry exhaled in relief. Malfoy shot him a quick look. “I don’t live at the Manor anymore,” he said, answering the unspoken question. “Too many…memories.” 

Harry nodded. 

Malfoy walked up to the door and, with a discreet flick of his wrist, opened it. “The neighbours are Muggle,” he explained as he stepped inside and gestured for Harry to follow. “I try not to make things too obvious.” 

“Right.” Looking around at the light, airy hallway, Harry smiled. “Nice.” 

“Thanks.” Malfoy closed the door and led the way into a living room done in creams and beiges, with touches of blue and green. “Mother helped me decorate. It’s…home.” 

“My place doesn’t look nearly as nice,” admitted Harry, walking around. 

“Ah yes. You live at Grimmauld Place, don’t you? The old Black house?” Malfoy smirked when Harry blinked at him. “I’m familiar with the place. I visited a couple of times with my mother when I was a child.” He shuddered. “Horrible decor.” 

Harry coughed. “Yeah, and the cursed objects aren’t that welcoming either.” 

“You haven’t had the Curse-Breakers in yet?” Malfoy gestured to a small bar. “Drink?” 

“Ale, please.” Harry sat on the sofa. “And yes, I’ve had them in, but even so, the place is creepy as all fuck.” 

“You’re not wrong,” said Malfoy, shrugging out of his robes and placing them over the back of a chair. He handed Harry a bottle of ale before pouring himself some white wine. “Mother thought she would inherit it, but she wasn’t sorry when it passed to you.” Raising his glass, he said, “Cheers.” 

Harry saluted with his bottle and took a swig. “Right, so tell me about yourself so when Hermione starts the interrogation I’ll know something. And we should probably show each other as much of our bodies as we’re comfortable with.” 

Malfoy snorted. “I doubt she’s going to go that far.” 

Harry sat back in the sofa. “You have met her, right? Trust me, she’ll ask.” 

“I see.” Malfoy took a sip of his wine and pursed his lips. “In that case, maybe we should just shag, and that way we can answer all her invasive questions accurately.” 

Harry almost choked on his ale. “Wait, you want to actually shag? Not just…pretend?” 

Malfoy shrugged. “How do you pretend to shag?” 

“I don’t know! This was your idea!” 

Malfoy crossed his long legs. “I’m just trying to get out of a potentially embarrassing situation. The idea of being up on stage, showing off my scarred body is—” He shook his head and tossed back his wine before Summoning the bottle and pouring more. 

Scarred? Harry froze. “Oh shit. I did that, didn’t I?” 

“Caused my scars?” Malfoy shrugged. “Some of them. Not all. When _he_ lived in the Manor there were…incidents.” He looked away. “Can we not talk about this, please? Just trust me when I say it was…unpleasant.” 

“Of course.” Harry licked his lips. “So you really want to have sex with me?” 

“I wouldn’t mind.” Malfoy looked him up and down, clear interest in his eyes. “You’re not unattractive.” 

Harry snorted. “Thanks.”

Malfoy smirked. “Plus, I’d love to see if the stories are true—”

Harry frowned. “What stories?” 

“You know. People talk.” Malfoy’s eyes danced with mischievous amusement. “The rumour in Slytherin was you and Longbottom were, shall we say, well endowed? I’m game for finding out if that’s true.” 

Harry raised an eyebrow. “And the rumour in Gryffindor was that all you Slytherins were kinky as fuck and were constantly throwing orgies. Is _that_ true?”

Throwing his head back, Malfoy laughed. “So,” he said once he’d sobered, “it seems we both have stories to either prove or debunk.” Draining his glass once more, he stood up. “Well? Shall we?” 

“Just like that?” Harry asked. 

“What, you need romantic candles and a seductive atmosphere?” Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Gryffindors. Fine, if you give me a minute I’m sure I can find some candles somewhere—”

“That won’t be necessary,” said Harry, standing and grabbing Malfoy’s hand. He took a deep breath. “Let’s go to the bedroom and see what happens.” 

Malfoy’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned in. “There’s just one thing I need to check first,” he murmured, and he pressed his mouth against Harry’s. 

Closing his eyes, Harry sighed into the kiss, stepping closer. His arms wound around Malfoy’s waist and he tilted his head, opening his mouth to welcome Malfoy’s tongue. 

Malfoy’s hands were splayed over Harry’s back, holding him in place as his tongue explored Harry’s mouth, mapping his teeth and gums. 

Pulling back, Malfoy stared at him. “That answers that,” he said, voice husky. 

Dazed, Harry blinked at him. “Answers what?” 

“If we’re sexually compatible.” Malfoy tightened his hold on Harry’s hand, pulling him down the hallway. “Let’s do this.” 

Malfoy’s bedroom was more what Harry had expected, with grey drapes, dark furniture, and a silk tapestry done in Slytherin colours hanging behind the bed. But before he could take in anything else, Malfoy toppled him onto the bed and crawled on top of him. “So, what do you like?” he asked, fingers busy with Harry’s robes and shirt. 

Harry began fiddling with Malfoy’s flies. “If you’re asking if I like topping our bottoming, I don’t care.” He lifted his eyes to Malfoy’s. “I’m vers.” 

Malfoy pushed open Harry’s shirt, smoothing his palms over his chest. “I like being fucked,” he said. “But I’ll top on occasion.” His hands busy on Harry’s flies, he added, “As for being kinky…Well, if we make it to a second fake date, maybe I can answer that question.” 

“No kinkiness until the second date?” Harry grinned. “Got it.” Shifting up, he allowed Malfoy to push his trousers and pants off, and the way Malfoy widened his eyes when he finally looked at Harry’s cock was…gratifying. “Not a disappointment, I hope?” 

Malfoy licked his lips. “Salazar. This may be the first time reality has beat rumour.” 

Smirking, Harry pushed Malfoy’s trousers and pants down as well. “You’re not so bad yourself,” he said upon seeing his cock. Not as thick as Harry’s, it was slightly longer, and still had a nice girth. 

Malfoy balanced himself on his arms and kicked away the last of his clothes as he gazed down at Harry. “You may not have a preference,” he whispered. “But I really want to ride you. You okay with that?” 

Harry took a shaky breath. “I can live with that.” 

“Good.” Leaning down, Malfoy treated Harry to a desperate, searing kiss, his bare arse pressing back against Harry’s cock. 

Harry’s hands settled on Malfoy’s lower back as their tongues coiled around each other’s, stroking and teasing. His fingers slid between Malfoy’s arsecheeks, and Malfoy moaned in his mouth. 

“Magic or lube?” Harry whispered against his mouth when Malfoy began nibbling at his jaw and neck. 

“I’ll do it,” Malfoy said, raising his head. He extended his arm and seconds later a pot slapped into his palm. He opened it and the scent of lavender filled the room. Scooping out a generous amount, Malfoy shifted back, slathering it onto Harry cock, stroking firmly. 

When he reached behind himself and arched his back, obviously preparing himself to take Harry, Harry moaned. “Next time maybe I can watch you do that?” he breathed. 

Malfoy smirked, even as he panted. “And you call _me_ kinky?” he purred. His eyes closed and his mouth fell open in a silent moan as he continued to finger himself, and Harry could only stare up at him, transfixed. 

Taking the opportunity to touch Malfoy, Harry ran his hands over his chest, tracing the scars lightly. 

Malfoy swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “They’re sensitive,” he said. 

“Sorry.” Harry withdrew his hand. 

“No. It feels good when someone touches them.” Malfoy’s eyes glittered as he looked down at Harry. “Keep going.” 

“Okay.” Sliding his hands up and down Malfoy’s thighs, he leaned up and kissed a part of the scar. He could feel the vibration of Malfoy’s moan against his lips, and smiling, he traced it with his tongue. 

“Fuck,” Malfoy whispered. Pressing Harry back into the bed, Malfoy kissed him fiercely, his mouth claiming Harry’s. When he pulled away, they were both panting, and Malfoy’s chest was heaving. “Ready?”

Harry nodded, and when Malfoy reached back to try to guide Harry inside him, he helped, his hand settling over Malfoy’s. 

Malfoy was tight, and it took some effort to breech his opening. Once Harry was inside, however, Malfoy was able to use gravity to help him. He sat down, wriggling his hips as Harry’s cock pressed deeper. 

“Godric,” Harry groaned as Malfoy’s muscles tightened around him. “Fuck.” 

“Yeah.” The cords of Malfoy’s neck stood out with the strain. “Salazar, Potter. How do people walk after being fucked by you?”

Harry laughed. “Most seem to manage okay,” he gasped, his eyes all but crossing as Malfoy sat down some more. “Damn.” 

“Exactly.” Malfoy braced his arms on Harry’s chest and raised himself up. “Right,” he said, voice tight, “let’s do this.” 

He pressed down, then moved up, and as he worked himself onto Harry’s cock little by little, it got easier. 

Harry, unable to help himself, began thrusting upwards, meeting his downward motion. Malfoy felt like tight, warm silk around him, and every time he took Harry deeper, his muscles rippled, caressing Harry’s cock. “Fuck,” he gasped. “This is—”

“Yeah,” agreed Malfoy, speeding up. “Yeah, it is.” He rammed himself onto Harry’s cock, and his back arched, taking Harry deeper. 

Sitting up, Harry supported Malfoy’s back, shifting inside him. As he did so he slid over a spot that made Malfoy stiffen and whimper. “Yeah?” said Harry, rolling his hips and sliding over the same spot again and again. 

“Fuck!” Malfoy shouted, and he fell backward, Harry following him to keep himself buried in his arse. 

Instinct kicked in and Harry started to ram into Malfoy, shoving as deep as he could, withdrawing almost completely to fuck back in as hard, as fast as he could. All finesse was gone, the world narrowed to him and Malfoy and chasing the pleasure he could feel that was just out of reach. 

When Harry’s orgasm washed over him, it was almost a surprise. Shouting, he buried his face in Malfoy’s neck and ground his hips hard against Malfoy’s, his body shuddering. 

Malfoy had evidently come at some point while Harry had been fucking him, because when Harry came back to himself, his stomach was sticky and slick. 

With a moan, he rolled off Malfoy and onto his back, struggling to catch his breath as he blinked unseeingly up at the ceiling. 

Beside him, Malfoy seemed to be having a similar problem. 

Once his heart slowed, Harry turned his head to look at Malfoy. “You know, if we do that a few more times, we may just be able to fool Hermione this Saturday.” 

Softly, Malfoy started to laugh.

* * *

“You look fine, Potter,” said Malfoy. “Stop fiddling with the cravat!” 

“It’s choking me,” Harry grumbled. “Why do I have to wear it again?” 

“Because I’m wearing one and we’re trying to match each other.” Malfoy smoothed down the collar of Harry’s formal robes. “There. Perfect.” He stepped back and gestured towards the mirror. “What do you think?”

Harry took in the two of them, and he had to admit, they made a striking couple. Malfoy’s robes were a similar cut and colour to his, but instead of having gold piping around the collar like Harry’s, they had silver. “Wow,” he said. 

“We’ll do,” pronounced Malfoy. “Now come on, we should go. We want to be just late enough, but not too late.” 

“Oh, hey,” said Harry as they walked towards the Floo. “There’s one other thing.” 

“Yes?” 

“Shouldn’t we call each other by our first names?” Harry asked. “Hermione may be suspicious if we’re still calling each other Potter and Malfoy after months of dating.” 

Malfoy pursed his lips. “Good point.” He smirked. “All right, _Harry_. Let’s do this.” 

Suppressing a shiver, Harry took Malfoy’s— _Draco’s_ arm and they stepped into the Floo, emerging a few seconds later in the Ministry’s lobby. The whole lobby had been transformed into a winter wonderland, with stars twinkling overhead, snow covering the ground, and trees dripping with crystals that mimicked icicles. 

Harry recognised all the people there including Ginny and her Holyhead Harpies girlfriend, George and Angelina, Ron and Bulstrode… When Ron saw him, he raised a glass in salute, his eyes going wide when he saw Draco. He started towards them, but Bulstrode tugged him in a different direction and he disappeared in the crowd. 

“Not bad,” declared Draco. Moving away from Harry, he snagged a glass of champagne from a floating tray and downed it in one go. “Right, where’s Granger? I think I’m ready for the interrogation.” 

“I’m glad one of us is,” muttered Harry, clasping his hands behind his back and trying not to ogle Draco’s arse. Although now that he knew exactly, and in intimate detail, what was under those robes, it was difficult not to. Ogling Draco had become one of his favourite pastimes over the previous few days.

“We’ll be fine,” said Draco, sounding as if he was trying to convince both of them. “After all, we’ve spent the past three days doing everything possible to ensure we know each other inside and out.” 

“Fair point.” Harry fought a blush as he recalled all they had done. 

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Are you blushing?” 

“Shut up.” Harry rolled his eyes. “Just because I’d never done bondage before—” 

“Mmhm.” Draco smirked. “You know, it’s a shame we can’t continue this relationship. There’s so much more for us to do.” 

Why couldn’t they? The words trembled on the tip of Harry’s tongue, but he bit them back. “If you say so. Anyway, we’d best be convincing, or everything will have been for nothing.” 

“Well, not _nothing_.” Draco leaned in, his eyes sparkling. “I certainly had fun.” 

“So did I,” whispered Harry, entranced by Draco’s eyes. 

“That’s definitely something, then,” said Draco. He blinked, stepping back, and the moment was broken. “Anyway, let’s keep our eyes on the prize, shall we? We’re still trying to get through this night without being auctioned off.”

Harry nodded. “I know the stakes,” he said. Draco reached for another glass of champagne, and Harry cleared his throat. “And speaking of, maybe you should slow down with that. You don’t want to be too drunk to convince Hermione.” 

Sipping, Draco regarded him for a moment. “We may as well relax,” he said. “There’s nothing more we can do now.” He smiled faintly. “And, if the worst-case scenario happens, we _are_ both wearing our best underpants.” 

Harry was still laughing when Hermione, carrying a clipboard, approached. “Malfoy. Harry,” she said, looking around pointedly. 

Draco executed a courtly bow. “Granger. I understand you helped organise this. Well done, I must say.” 

Hermione inclined her head. “I had a hand in it, yes.” She transferred her attention to Harry. Smirking, she said, “I thought you were bringing your significant other? Or have you forgotten our arrangement?”

“I didn’t forget, and I did bring him.” Harry clasped Draco’s hand in his and waited for the explosion. 

“Malfoy?” Hermione’s mouth dropped open, the smirk fading. “You expect me to believe you and Malfoy are together?” 

Harry nodded. “I do, because it’s true.” 

Hermione’s eyes narrowed. “Prove it.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?” asked Harry. 

Draco’s fingers tightened on Harry’s. “Oh, I think I know a way,” he purred, spinning Harry towards him. When Harry was facing him, Draco cupped his jaw, leaned in, and kissed him. It was tender, gentle, and stayed that way for all of two seconds, after which, it became their usual sensual slide of tongues. Draco tasted of champagne and berries, and for a moment Harry forgot about Hermione, the Ministry, everyone but the man in his arms. 

When they drew apart, Harry stared at Draco, dazed. 

Hermione cleared her throat. “Where?” she asked, voice faint.

Both Harry and Draco turned to look at her. “Huh?” said Harry.

Hermione smiled sheepishly. “I promised to buy the two of you dinner, remember? Where would you like to go?” 

“Oh, right!” Harry grinned. “Um, we haven’t talked about it, but—”

“Pierre’s,” said Draco without hesitation. 

Hermione winced. “The most expensive new restaurant in Diagon? I walked right into that, didn’t I?” 

Draco shrugged. “I’ve been wanting to try it.” He smirked. “I may as well have you pay for it.” 

Shaking her head, Hermione looked at Harry. “You’re sure this is who you want to be in a relationship with?”

Harry grinned. “Granted, he’s prickly, but…yeah.” 

Staring at them for a long moment, Hermione finally nodded. “As mad as it may seem, you two actually work.” She sighed. “All right, I believe you.” Her eyes narrowed. “And look for a dinner invitation in the mail once the holidays are over. I want to hear more about this relationship.” 

“We’d be delighted to dine with you, Granger,” said Draco smoothly. “Just let us know when.” 

“I’ll be sure to do that.” Hermione looked down at her clipboard. “Right, since you are both off the auction list, I’ll have to rework my schedule, and I need to speak with the other organisers. Excuse me.” 

“I can’t believe that actually worked,” Harry said once Hermione was out of earshot. 

“Of course it worked. It was obvious that wasn’t our first kiss.” Draco looked at Harry. “So what now? How would you like to stage our break up?”

Harry froze. “What?”

“Our break up.” Draco raised an eyebrow. “Unless you want us to continue this act? It will be more difficult to pull off in a one on one situation with our friends.” 

“Right.” Harry felt nauseated. “Um, we can’t do it too quickly. We’ll have to time it right.” 

“Agreed.” 

Was Draco upset? Watching him closely, Harry said, “Maybe after the holidays? I don’t know about your friends, but mine will be all over me if I announce I broke up with my boyfriend during the holidays, and I’m not sure I want to deal with all that.” 

Draco looked…relieved. “Good plan. We can continue as we are, and in the new year, address it again.” 

Harry exhaled. “Yeah, okay.” He blinked as he recalled something. “Oh, I forgot to tell Hermione that I was going to…Uh oh.” 

“Going to what?” asked Draco. 

“Pansy—” Harry managed. 

“Draco Malfoy!” Parkinson, descending like a banshee, screeched. “You’re dating _Harry Potter_ and you didn’t tell me? I can’t believe you!” 

“Oh fuck,” Draco muttered, clearing his throat. “Pansy, I—”

“Excuse me,” said Harry, backing away. “But I need to talk to Hermione for a moment.” 

Draco frowned. “Right now?” 

Harry nodded. “Yeah.” Conscious of Parkinson’s eyes boring into him, Harry leaned in and gave Draco a tender kiss. “I’ll be right back.” He nodded at a clearly gobsmacked Parkinson. “Parkinson.”

“Oh my God, it’s actually true—?!” 

Walking away from them, Harry smiled. Clearly he wasn’t the only one with friends who liked to launch into lectures at the drop of a hat. He scanned the lobby, spotting Hermione chatting with Daphne Greengrass. As he watched, they ducked behind the stage set up for the auction. Hurrying towards it, Harry slipped behind it, too. “Hermione?” 

Hearing voices, Harry moved towards them. 

“…believe it worked!” said Hermione.

Frowning, Harry moved closer. 

“Of course it worked.” That had to be…Greengrass. “Haven’t you seen the way they look at each other? They’ve been eyefucking since third year at least.” 

“Well I know, but—” Hermione sighed. “I honestly thought it would be more difficult to get Harry to admit he fancies Malfoy, not to mention getting Malfoy to cooperate.” 

Greengrass laughed. “Oh please. Draco’s been in love with Potter for years. Threatening him with an auction was the perfect way to make him act on it.” 

“Well he definitely did,” said Hermione. “Did you see that kiss they gave each other when I demanded they prove they were together? Dear heavens.” 

“Oh I saw it. Sweet Circe, but it was hot.” Greengrass whistled. “Anyway, now that’s done, who do we have left for the show?” 

“Neville, Theo, Blaise, Dean, Seamus, Luna—”

Tiptoeing away, Harry waited a few seconds before approaching once more, making sure to make some noise. “Hermione?” 

“In here.” 

Harry walked in to find Hermione and Greengrass poring over the clipboard. “Oh, hello, Harry. What can I do for you?” asked Hermione.

Harry smiled. “I felt bad about not being able to participate in your auction, so I thought I’d donate some money to the cause.” Reaching into his robes, he pulled out a bag of Galleons. “One hundred Galleons.” 

“How generous!” Beaming, Hermione hugged him. “Thank you.” 

“Will Draco be donating to the cause?” asked Greengrass.

“I’m sure he will,” said Harry. “Especially when I tell him what I gave. He’s quite…competitive.” 

“True.” Greengrass regarded him. “It sounds like you know him well, Potter.

Harry smirked. “I hope to get to know him a lot better. See you both later.” 

Once back in the lobby, Harry went in search of Draco, finding him where he’d left him, still being harangued by Parkinson. 

“…can’t believe you’re shagging Potter and won’t give me any details—”

Stepping smoothly between Parkinson and Draco, Harry said, “I need to borrow Draco for a moment, Parkinson. Excuse us.” And, leaving a sputtering Parkinson behind, he dragged Draco away. 

“About fucking time you showed up,” Draco growled. “I was about to hex her.” 

“Hexing is not in the spirit of Christmas,” Harry reminded him. 

Draco looked at him, eyes narrowed. “What’s happened?” he asked. “Something’s…different.” 

Pulling Draco behind some curtains, Harry stared into his eyes. “I gave a hundred Galleons to the War Orphans Fund. I assume you’ll match me.” 

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Match you? I’ll give them one hundred and _one_.” 

Harry laughed. “Of course.” Sobering, he pressed closer. “Also, I have it on good authority you’ve fancied me for ages.” 

Draco went still. “I don’t know where you may have heard that, but—”

“And that I’ve fancied you back at least as long,” Harry continued, talking over him. “Which is true, by the way.” 

Eyes narrowed, Draco said, “Oh?” He swallowed. “And from what source did you hear this information?” 

“A trusted one.” Harry smirked. “So here’s what I think we should do. Let’s see how this goes for a while, and if it isn’t working, then we break up.” 

“Just like a real relationship,” murmured Draco. He inclined his head. “I could be persuaded. How long shall we give it?” 

Harry shrugged. “I dunno. Seventy or eighty years?” 

Sliding his arms up around Harry’s neck, Draco smirked, leaning in to kiss him. “You know, Harry, that may be just long enough.”

~***~


End file.
